


Anniversary

by Soraya (soraya2004), soraya2004



Series: Snippets from the "His Bodyguard" universe [6]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Future Fic, M/M, Pranks and Practical Jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-28
Updated: 2010-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-15 00:31:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soraya2004/pseuds/Soraya, https://archiveofourown.org/users/soraya2004/pseuds/soraya2004
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Takes place several years after <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/155193">His Bodyguard</a></p>
    </blockquote>





	Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place several years after [His Bodyguard](http://archiveofourown.org/works/155193)

They were roses this time around, twelve long-stemmed, thorn-less pink roses. Last year, it had been lilies, and the year before that: orchids. Everett sat behind his desk, doing his best to ignore the way their fragrance permeated his entire office. Lieutenant Gomez had placed them on the ledge by the window—to help them catch the light, she'd said. He couldn't help wondering if they would catch _more_ if he simply threw them out of it.

"Colonel, I have the update you wanted," Gomez's voice interrupted that very serious deliberation.

When he looked up, he noticed that she was standing in the doorway to his outer office, eyeing him warily and waiting for him to wave her in. Which he did at once, grateful for the distraction. Gomez, however, didn't seem to realize that that _wasn't_ a hint to talk about those damn flowers again.

"Oh, they're beautiful," she sighed as made her way over to them, apparently forgetting that she was supposed to be delivering a report. "How many years has it been now?"

"Four!" He barely managed to say the word without growling it out. "Four years, and four bouquets." Quite frankly, the whole thing was really starting to piss him off.

He knew he'd done a poor job of hiding his frustration, because Gomez stepped back all of a sudden with that slightly panicked expression she always seemed to get around him. What _did_ surprise him, though, was that Gomez temporarily seemed to grow a pair of stones large enough to keep her talking.

"Sir, if you don't mind my asking, is it such a bad thing?" She gestured at the flowers again, in case somehow he'd forgotten where they were. "Clearly, someone out there appreciates you enough to send you flowers every year."

Everett glared at her then, wondering if he'd ever been that young or so naive. Was this really the kind of person he had on his staff? Someone, who had no ability at all to even glimpse the bigger picture when it was staring them right in the face? It was even more disappointing to think that he'd been the one, who'd pushed so hard to get her assigned to this office.

"Lieutenant Gomez!" He _did_ growl now. "Tell me: what do you see when you look over by the window?"

"I see roses, sir," she responded at once, looking slightly perplexed by his new line of questioning.

"Really?" He scowled at her, disappointed all over again. "Because what I see is a puzzle: a big, cross-Atlantic puzzle that has managed to baffle several minds far brighter than yours for over four years." He decided to let her work out whose _brighter_ mind he was referring to. "I don't like puzzles, Lieutenant; I don't like them at all. Why do you suppose that is?"

Gomez was really floundering now, he could tell. She also wanted the hell out of there, if the beads of sweat forming on her forehead were anything to go by. When her mouth finally flapped open and no sound came out, he dismissed her with another wave of his hand, feeling frustrated and strangely unsettled.

The truth was, he didn't like being laughed at. And he knew, despite all evidence to the contrary, that someone somewhere was laughing at him. It made him hate the way this particular date rolled round each year with the inevitability of an unwelcome season. But what made it even worse was that he still had no idea why he'd been targeted in the first place.

Every year, though, he held on to the faint hope that the perpetrators would slip up somehow, or that somehow he would catch a break. He'd long since given up on the florist in London providing any useful 'intel'. LantisFlora were always so adamant that his mysterious benefactor had somehow managed to remain completely anonymous, and that there was nothing they could do to help. For an organization that supposedly prided itself on its attention to detail, it spoke of incompetence at the most basic level. Either that, or they were in on the joke, since it was, without a doubt, some sort of a ridiculous joke.

Anyone, who'd ever met him, knew he was _not_ a hearts and flowers kind of guy. Career military and pink flowers did _not_ go together! The mere concept of it was insane.

Trying to stay calm, he picked up the accompanying card, knowing he had to examine it again. It was at least tasteful, he supposed, if he ignored the background of smiling puppies romping through glittery clouds of cotton candy. Which he did quite spectacularly! As for the rest of it? Unsurprisingly, very little had changed. Every year it was the same old story:

> ** Thanks again for everything, Dillon! J/R **
> 
> ** Seriously, Dillon, you're the best! J/R **
> 
> ** Dillon, we couldn't have done it without you! J/R **

This year's note simply said: ** From the bottom of our hearts, J/R! **

He would have torn the damn thing to shreds right then if it weren't a valuable piece of the puzzle.

 _J/R_ —always with the fucking _J/R_! He had no idea who these guys were, or why they'd set out to annoy him every year on this particular day. As far as he could tell, the 23rd of February had no special significance. He'd checked his itinerary over the past few years, looking for clues, and each time he came up with nothing. Zilch. Nada. Squat.

Evidently, all _he_ ever did on February 23rd was to come to the office and then deal with the day to day administration of running his base. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary!

No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't figure out what was behind all of this. And that bothered him in ways he really didn't want to think about.

 _'Get a grip, Dillon,'_ he told himself sternly, giving himself a quick mental shake. _'Stay sharp and stay frosty! You will catch these guys in the end!'_ And he clung on to that belief with the determination of a man, who was used to having things go his way.

After all, there was always next year.

 

The End.


End file.
